Waking Up In Vegas
by Persephone Oswald Oleesen
Summary: Set after Chase proposes to Cameron. When he hears that she's engaged, will House let her go? Or, will he lie to her and whisk her off to the city that never sleeps? Hameron, rated 'cuz they can't keep their hands to themselves
1. Waking Up In Vegas

Pairing(s): Hameron, somewhat anti-Chameron. Sorry, Chase fans; I hate the pairing. ^^;

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Simple, sweet and to the point.

* * *

"What do you mean, you don't remember anything? We're in Vegas, House! _Vegas_!! What the hell happened last night?"

"Sorry. I told you before; I can't remember. 'Do have a bitch of a headache, though. Oh no, wait. That's _you_."

Allison Cameron tapped her slender fingers on her throbbing temple, trying to sort through her muddled mind. She felt the beginnings of a migraine coming on, yet didn't dare ask House for Vicodin. He'd already taken two that morning, and one of them had to be able-minded for awhile. He had made it perfectly clear it wasn't going to be him as they sat on the sidewalk out in front of the sleazy motel they'd woken up in, having already cracked open another beer. "Didn't you say you had a hangover?"

He nodded, taking a slurp of his beer. "Yup. And you know the solution to this problem?"

"… More beer and Vicodin?"

"Right on, kiddo. You catch on fast," he smirked at her over the rim of his bottle, and she shook her head at him.

"Okay, do you know where your motorcycle went?"

He shrugged. "It was stolen, I guess. 'Parked it right here. Wonder how many thousands of people here know how to hotwire a motorcycle?"

"So you _do_ remember!"

He sighed. "Only some things. I remember that, and the fact that you were a lot less annoying last night."

She froze. In her mind's eye she was pinned up against the door of a room, running her hands through his thinning, grey-brown hair as he simultaneously left a trail of kisses on her collarbone and dug through his jean pockets. He growled in frustration, and she fisted her hands in his hair.

"_What's wrong?"_

"_I… Can't… I think I lost—"_

"_What?"_

"_I think I lost the key. Help me look for it."_

_Cameron growled in response and began digging through her purse. Her nerves were standing on end, and everywhere his lips touched burned like fire. She knew she was very drunk, and her blurring vision did nothing to aid her search through her jumbled handbag. Finally she got fed up with it and tossed the purse on the floor. Her driver's license, a bottle of pills and several miscellaneous makeup containers tumbled out, and before she could bend down to search for the key he held something up. "Found it." As annoyed as she had been, she couldn't help nibbling at his ear as he unlocked the door and left her bag outside. The next morning it and its various contents were gone._

_You've gotta help me out_

_It's all a blur last night_

_We need a taxi_

'_Cuz you're hung over and I'm broke_

_I lost my fake ID_

_But you lost the motel key_

_Spare me the freakin' dirty looks now_

_Don't blame me!_

"Idiot," she muttered, sitting down beside him on the sidewalk. As they passed, pedestrians didn't spare them a single glance; people sitting on the sidewalk looking angry and lost were probably very typical in their world. She buried her face in her hands, feeling embarrassed that she was even here. Being a successful female doctor, she should be at home in Princeton, doing her job, raising the standards for female workers everywhere. Instead she had let her stupid female emotions get the better of her, and now she was stuck in Vegas with no obvious out, sitting beside the man she loved to hate.

"You really have room to talk, Cameron," he replied hotly, throwing her a sidelong glare. "All our money was in that bag, along with my motorcycle keys. You were just too lovestruck to go back for it before seducing me, huh? Couldn't resist. I can't say I blame you, though. Any woman would have done the same."

"If I remember correctly, you weren't complaining a bit," she responded quickly, ignoring his last comment and sending him an equally piercing glare of her own. "And you were the one doing the seducing in the first place, remember?"

"_Hey, why don't you shut the hell up and put your money where your mouth is?"_

"_Say what?" Cameron replied hazily, sitting in front of a slot machine. She had been talking to herself for the last five minutes, trying to decide how much she really wanted to gamble for a chance at the jackpot. She had completely forgotten about House until she heard his voice in her ear, and she shivered at his proximity. He was close, too close for comfort. _

"_I said, shut the hell up and bet it all. The jackpot is over four thousand dollars. If you can hit it right, that four hundred in your hand will look like pocket change. I've got a hunch. Put it all in."_

"_House, are you sure…?"_

"_Trust me. I've gambled a lot in my lifetime, and my hunches are always right," he whispered, leaning closer to her. His arms were wrapped around her middle now, and he could hear her breath hitch as he continued, "When you win, though, I expect something in return."_

"_Like what?" She replied, voice wavering as she stuck the rest of her money in the machine. His voice was husky and low, and was growing sexier by the minute. Her mind futilely tried to gather her up, trying to backtrack to Princeton and to everyone she left behind. This was only supposed to be a business trip, she thought, and Chase had been unhappy about her going with just House alone. She didn't understand why he was soooo—"Ohhh," she moaned under her breath as he bit down on her exposed shoulder. Hard. She was glad she'd picked the black dress to wear._

"_You'll find out," he hissed against her skin as he pulled the lever on the machine. The cogs went around and around and around, but she hardly noticed as he nibbled on her neck. One, two, three. _

_She'd lost._

"_Oops."_

"Eh, you were practically begging me to do something. Your dress was more revealing than Cuddy's work clothes are," he replied as he took a swig, picturing one of his boss' various, low-cut 'just business' tops. He glanced at his companion, and ultimately decided she'd look much better in the shirt than Cuddy did.

"Well, it doesn't matter what happened last night, because it didn't mean anything," Cameron replied, standing up. Turning to face him, she held out a hand. "Come on. We've gotta go win our money back."

"But mom!" He whined, comfortable with his spot on the concrete. She gave him a cross look, and he continued, "We have no money. How are we going to win back all our money with _nothing_? I guess you could take off your shirt, we might get a couple of bucks if you dance—"

"You're going to go to the ATM and get out that hundred Wilson loaned you last week," she replied, smirking as his face lit up with surprise at her words. "I know you don't do anything with half of the money you borrow from him, so I've been keeping tabs."

"Touché, young grasshopper," he replied, clasping her hand and allowing her to pull him up. Unfortunately for him, she spotted something on his hand that made her gasp in shock, releasing his hand. He crashed back down to the ground as she yelled, pointing an accusing finger at him.

"What the hell are you doing wearing my engagement ring?!"

_You wanna cash out_

_And get the hell out of town_

_Don't be a baby_

_Remember what you told me:_

"_Shut up and put your money where your mouth is"_

_That's what you get for waking up in Vegas_

_Get up and shake the glitter of your clothes now _

_That's what you get for waking up in Vegas_

_Why are these lights so bright…?_

_Did we get hitched last night?_

_Dressed up like Elvis_

_Why am I wearing your class ring?_

"Damn it, Cameron, why the hell did you let go?!" He roared, massaging his sore bottom. "If I end up with any broken bones during this little _business trip_, I'm making damned sure you get the bill."

"Answer me, House! Why the…" Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of her own left hand. On her ring finger was not the silver band Chase had given her; no, it was on House's. On hers was a thick silver ring with a jewel stuck in the center of it. The words around the jewel were worn and difficult to read, yet throughout her high school career she had been presented with the offer of wearing one of these multiple times by multiple, faceless boys. Cameron knew instinctively what it was. "Wh… Why am I wearing your class ring? House… Did we get… Were we _married _last night?" She closed her eyes and suddenly was standing before House and a Chinese man in white robes. House was dressed in a sequined suit reminiscent of Elvis, and over her own face hung a thin, white veil. The Asian man was talking, but in her haze she couldn't hear him speak, and suddenly she was swept up in House's arms, swapping spit without a care in the world.

Now, opening her eyes, she turned to the building they stood before. "Chong Wedding Chapel," she breathed, unable to believe her eyes. She had known she was getting married soon, but not in Vegas and definitely not after a five minute ceremony. Glancing down, she saw his piercing blue eyes boring into her. _And definitely not to this man. _He broke eye contact with her to reach into his pocket. He came up with a cell phone, and suddenly warning bells were going off in her mind. "What are you doing, House?"

"Calling Wilson, of course," he replied, and she paled as he opened the cell. "He'll never believe what happened!"

"No!!" She cried. Lightning fast, she snatched the phone out of his hand and held it up in the air, as far away from the man on the ground as she could manage. "He can never know! _No one _is going to know about this, you hear?"

He raised his eyes suspiciously, and she could swear he was mocking her. "The phone was dead, anyway. I forgot to charge it before we left."

_Don't call your mother_

'_Cuz now we're partners in crime_

_Don't be a baby _

_Remember what you told me:_

"_Shut up and put your money where your mouth is"_

_That's what you get for waking up in Vegas_

_Get up and shake the glitter off your clothes now_

_That's what you get for waking up in Vegas_

Sighing, she handed him the dead phone and plopped down beside him. "House, what are we going to do?" She asked desperately, burying her face into her hands. "We have no phone, no transportation, and we just got hitched when Chase and I are having our wedding in a week! What do I do?"

Instead of answering, House struggled to his feet, leaning on his cane for support as he popped another pill. At least he still had his cane and Vicodin. They were the only things he had left from last night. Taking a deep breath, he began to walk away from her down the street, looking in the various shop and store windows. She looked up and, finding that he was leaving her, scrambled to her feet. "House! Where are you going?"

"You said we needed money, right?" He grunted, opening the door to a pet shop and going in.

_You got me into this_

_Information overload, situation: lost control_

_Send out an SOS_

_And get some cash out_

She followed him into the pet store to find him standing at an ATM. The machine spat out what appeared to be four one-hundred dollar bills, and then a receipt. He crumpled the receipt up and threw it on the floor, then limped over to the door. Without a word he handed her half of the money. She looked up into his face. His eyes were unreadable as he said, "Let's go get our money back. Then you can go home and forget all about this." He brushed past her and left the shop. She vaguely noted the cashier, a young, pimple-faced boy was watching them with interest, but she ignored him as she turned and followed House out of the door. Something he had said bothered her.

"House!" She cried, jogging to catch up with him. He was standing on the sidewalk, hailing a cab down. Holding the door open, he waited for her to get in. She stopped before him, trying to discern the odd look in his eyes. "What was that for?"

"What?" He asked, feigning innocence as he waited for her to get in the car. Inside the taxi, the driver muttered something in a different language, possibly Mexican. As annoyed as the man sounded, Cameron didn't make a move to get in the car.

"What did you mean by 'forget all about this'?"

She watched his eyes, guarded as they were, hoping for some sort of indication that he was surprised by her words. He shrugged, looking away from her as he said, "You said you wanted to marry the wombat, right? That's what I meant. As far as I'm concerned, this never happened. Get in the cab already, woman! Jose is getting restless, and you know how _they _get when they're angry." The Mexican in the car muttered more of what sounded vaguely like obscenities directed at the diagnostician.

After staring at House momentarily, she pushed him out of the way and leaned into the car. "Sorry, but we're going to have to take a rain check," she told the man, who then directed his obscenities at her as she slammed the taxi door shut. He sped off, his tires leaving black marks on the street.

After watching the cab zoom off, House turned back to her. "Well, what the hell was that for? The closest casino is fourteen blocks away, and you're seriously misguided if you think I'm going to walk. You have absolutely no respect for cripples, you know." He tried to sound snarky, but his voice just sort of deadpanned as they stood there, he avoiding and she staring at him, trying to figure out why. Why he would bring her all the way to Nevada, marry her, get her drunk and sleep with her, and then decide that it meant nothing. Typical House. She suddenly remembered another portion of last night, and her mind set into motion a devious plan only House could have thought of.

_We're gonna tear up the town_

_Don't be a baby_

_Remember what you told me…_

_Remember what you told me…_

"Do you remember what you told me last night, House?" She asked, putting on a wide, innocent expression as she looked up at him. He glanced down at her, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Umm… No? If you remember, _Doctor Cameron_, I was completely drunk off of my ass, so pardon me if I don't recall whispering sweet nothings late in the night."

"It wasn't late," she replied, shaking her head at him, a smile playing across her lips. "In fact, it was before either of us got too drunk. We had just gotten into town, and I asked you what this business trip was about. You set the whole thing up so you could get me away from work, didn't you?"

He didn't respond, only massaged his skull without looking at her. She could tell he was uncomfortable, but she pressed on, intent on finding out if he really meant what he'd said to her yesterday. She didn't know why she wanted to know so badly, but the need was there, and she couldn't help it. Just like every other time she had been with him alone, she jumped in without thinking, because something had always felt right with him. When he rejected her, she'd buried those feelings deep within her and decided to give her coworker a chance. She tried to convince herself that she loved Chase, and that he was the one she wanted to spend her life with. However, every time she would come into contact with House, she felt like she belonged.

"You told me that you 'messed up' three years ago, and that this trip was your chance to redeem yourself. You said I should just 'Forget about the wombat for a little bit' and just enjoy myself with you, didn't you? You _planned _this to happen! The marriage, the hotel, even the money!"

"Well, technically I didn't plan on losing _all _of the money," he responded lightly, rubbing on his forehead with his free hand like he did when he had a particular difficult case to diagnose. "I actually thought you were going to win the jackpot last night. So much for that hunch."

She laughed and, riding on the wave of ease his response had brought, wrapped her arms around him in a tender hug. She felt him tense up immediately, and began to pull away. She was pleasantly surprised when he wrapped his free arm around her, returning her embrace in a gruff, one-armed hug. Laughing again in relief, she murmured, "You knew I didn't really feel anything for Chase all along, didn't you?"

"Not really," he murmured, surprising her. She looked up at him in surprise, and he continued. "I was actually convinced you'd started to feel something for him, for a while. I figured it out when Wilson told me that you were having doubts about your relationship."

"Wilson told you? Damn him, I told him that was confidential!"

He laughed at her disapproval and, while she was still thinking about what a dirty rat Wilson was, he swooped down and pressed his lips against hers. She gasped, surprised, and then responded to him, ignoring the taste of beer in his mouth. They stayed like that for a while, uncaring if the world saw them or not. They were lost in the taste of the other's mouth, and while Cameron didn't particularly like the taste of beer, once she got past that he tasted strangely like butterscotch. She pulled away after a while for lack of air, and as she gasped he leaned down to her ear.

"Wanna go back to the room? I've got it reserved for the whole weekend, _Mrs. House_."

She gasped at her new surname, and then sighed as she leaned against him, reveling in the warmth of his body. "Sure, House. Let's go."

"_Shut up and put your money where your mouth is" _

_That's what you get for waking up in Vegas_

_Get up and shake the glitter off your clothes now_

_That's what you get for waking up in Vegas_

_That's what you get, baby_

* * *

So, there it is, a crappy Hameron songfic to Katy Perry's _Waking Up In Vegas_. All I ask is that you don't flame me too badly, okay? This is my first attempt at a House, M.D. fanfic, so don't expect too much lol.


	2. Afterglow

So, here is the unprecedented chapter two of Waking Up In Vegas, cleverly titled "Afterglow". ^_^ In actuality, I wasn't planning on releasing any more chapters (upon publishing this story, I forgot to click on the "Complete" tag lol). But the surprising amount of feedback I've recieved for the first chapter prompted me to continue with the story. I do hope you will all enjoy the second as much as the first! My gratitude for all of you who have faved, reviewed and/or put this story on your alert list. Thank you all so much! (Hands out cookies)

Disclaimer: I don't own House. I do own Hugh Laurie, though. ~^_^~

* * *

The plane ride back from Nevada was painfully quiet for the three of them; House, popping pills on the hour every hour, glaring out the window like a scolded child; Allison, trying to disappear into the seat next to him, doing her best not to look at either of them; and Wilson, feeling very out of place as he tried to watch a movie in the seat next to her, ignoring the tension and the questions boiling up inside of him as they flew. He could vividly remember House's words early this morning, asking him to come to Las Vegas to pick them up. He had been asleep, and his cell phone's incessant ringing forced him to crawl out of bed to get it. Seeing the caller ID, he sighed and picked it up.

"_Hey, Jimmy. I need a ride."_

"_House, where are you? Cuddy is pissed; you had a lecture yesterday! Did you play hooky just because she wanted you to address the main points on a diagnostician's job?"_

"_No, I'm in Vegas."_

"… _This isn't funny, House. Cameron skipped, too. Do you happen to know anything about that?"_

"_Seriously Wilson, I need you to come get me. My bike was stolen and we can't get a rental. My credit sucks and Allison lost her purse."_

"_Wait. _Cameron _is in Vegas with you? House, what the hell are you two doing?"_

"_Well, James, I suppose you're old enough now that I can tell you about the birds and the bees. When a man gets  
shitfaced—"_

"_Ugh, no! I don't want to hear about this! She's—you're—lemme talk to Cameron."_

"_Sorry. She's a little preoccupied right now. D'you wanna know what with?"_

"_Oh, God! Look, I'll be there soon. Where are you guys staying?"_

"_Some Japanese wedding chapel."_

"_Actually, House, it's Chinese." A female's voice, presumably Cameron's, could be heard at the other end of the phone._

_His mouth had dropped open. "You—you seriously didn't get married, did you? Please, tell me you didn't."_

"_Okay. But I must warn you—I don't like lying."_

"_Jesus. I'll be there soon. Bye."_

After the long plane ride to Nevada he'd taken a taxi to Chong's Wedding Chapel, finding his unshaven friend and a very uncomfortable-looking Allison with him waiting outside. He'd tried to ask them questions, but as usual, House blew him off and Allison remained quiet. After he'd called for a taxi he'd started yelling miscellaneous things at the both of them, the most serious topic being that Allison was supposed to be engaged to Chase.

In the cab as they rode to the airport, House had been unable to resist, and flashed the silver band before Wilson's eyes. "Apparently not. Now that you know, could you just not yell at me until we get Allison home? We're both very tired." He raised his eyes suggestively, and Allison's face flushed.

Wilson had turned to the woman sitting between them in the taxi. "But… Cameron, why?"

"Actually, you're going to have to call her House now, too."

"House, shut up. Cam… _Allison_, why did you do this? What about Chase?"

She'd looked at him, then, a guilty look tugging at her features, making her look much older than she was. "Wilson, I… I don't know, O.K.? Chase isn't…"

"So you just led him along for nothing? You let him think you were as in love with him as he is you, even though you've never felt like that towards him? You're going to crush him for House?"

"Just drop it, Wilson," House had interjected, flashing him a dangerous glare above Allison's head. His eyes bore into Wilson's, and for the first time since he'd talked to House earlier his questions didn't seem as important. He had watched with fascination as House wrapped an arm around Allison's shoulders, silently comforting the girl, who now wore a look of guilt mixed with horror. That same look was still painted over her features on the airplane, and as Wilson watched her she touched House's class ring multiple times, turning the large ring 'round and 'round on her finger. He knew she hadn't been thinking clearly when she'd married House, and the look on her face told him she was rethinking her situation. Glancing across her, he watched as House's eyes followed her hands, watching her intently, waiting for her to take it off. The diagnostician's eyes would be unreadable to anyone else, but to Wilson he looked worried. Worried that, once Allison began really considering their actions, she would decide it meant nothing and go back to Chase.

Wilson recalled a conversation they'd had several years ago, before she and House had gone on their first "date". She had been extremely surprised when Wilson expressed his concern to her. "You're worried I'll break _his _heart?" Even now, she still had no idea of the impact her choices had on her ex-boss.

Wilson sighed as guilt laid itself over his own consciousness. _If it weren't for you, she would still be guilt-free, and maybe House would end up happy for once,_ an inside voice shrieked, taking its frustration out on the inside of his skull.

A softer voice, the "good" side of his personality, consoled him. _You know this can't be what Allison wants. She did seem to love House before, but that's not enough to warrant breaking Chase's heart, especially not like this. They can't just walk back into PPTH holding hands. She has to take her time and let him down gently. This isn't Wilson's fault. She would have started feeling bad for Chase eventually._

_Oh, shut up, you! _The "bad" side of his personality scolded, muffling the voice of the "good" voice. _Wilson just likes to keep House miserable. If he wasn't, he wouldn't need our Jimmy anymore, and since Amber kicked the bucket, he doesn't have anybody else._

Wilson silenced the warring voices in his mind by shaking his head, also trying to fight off the sudden tears that sprang to his eyes. Losing Amber had been profoundly difficult for him, because she had unknowingly been the person he'd loved the most. He'd cared for her even more than he had any of his wives. Even House had noticed, which was why he'd been immensely guilty after her sudden death. Wilson had long forgiven his misanthropic friend, yet the pain of watching Amber die still made him cry himself to sleep some nights. He'd kept the last note she'd ever written to him on the back of a used envelope in his bedside desk drawer, unable to throw it away even now. He laid his head back on the headrest, slipping the headphones over his head but no longer watching the movie, lost again in thoughts of Amber.

* * *

When they finally got back to New Jersey, Wilson drove Allison home first, and she got out of his car without a word to either of the men in the car. To Wilson's surprise, House hopped out of the car behind her, following her up to the door of her apartment building. Wilson watched from the car as she turned to him, the guilt still clearly written all over her face. He kept the windows rolled up so that they could have their privacy, but he watched with interest as they talked for a moment. He hadn't gone up the stairs to her door, so she went back down them and gave House a chaste kiss on the cheek. Wilson was surprised when House took her in his arms and kissed her deeply and even more so when she responded eagerly. He soon felt like he was intruding upon something and looked away, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel of his car. After another five minutes House was clambering back into his car, and silently Wilson drove off in the direction of House's apartment.

"Well, that was… Sweet," Wilson muttered, trying to break the strained silence between them. He kept his gaze on the road, but knew instinctively that House was fidgeting in the passenger's seat.

"D'you think she's going to dump the Aussie?" He asked, rubbing at the stubble on his chin.

Wilson shrugged. "What do you think?"

House scoffed. "Well, if I knew that I wouldn't have asked you for your opinion, would I?"

"I don't know either, House! Cameron—"

"_Allison_."

"Right—_Allison _doesn't seem the type to just let Chase go without any explanations. She'll probably want to talk to him, and then you won't hear from her for a few days because she'll probably be trying to make her decision."

"Who do you think she'll pick?"

"_I don't know_, House. I honestly didn't think she'd ever cheat on Chase, myself."

"She didn't necessarily cheat on him. She told me she didn't feel anything for the wombat, anyway."

"That doesn't matter, House. She's engaged to him, and she slept with you. The bottom line is, she cheated, and there's nothing she can do about it." He paused momentarily, then said in a low voice, "She never cheated on her first husband."

House glanced at him, blue eyes wide. He recalled pictures of Allison with her husband on their wedding day and another of her with her husband and their best man, his best friend. He remembered her admitting that she'd fallen in love with their best man, but that she'd never slept with him because she wouldn't have been able to live with herself if she had. Granted, that had been before she'd been toughened up by working with House, but it still seemed like it would be an integral part of her personality. He looked away from Wilson, cursing under his breath. "Wilson, take me back to her apartment."

"No."

"Why not?"

Wilson frowned but kept his eyes trained on the road. "Because she needs some time to think, House. She wouldn't be able to with you hanging over her shoulder."

"Wilson, I need to tell her something!"

"So call her. Or walk."

"I can't, damn it! You don't have anything to do, anyway!"

"Sure, I do. I have a date." He pulled over to the side of the street and parked, smirking at his companion. "And you have to get out."

House sneered as Wilson drove off, honking twice and flashing his lights. "Liar!" He shouted, watching the car drive down the street before turning the corner. Grumbling to himself, he limped up the stairs to his apartment building and went inside. After unlocking the door to his apartment, he hurried in and collapsed onto the couch, plugging his phone into a jack on the wall. As soon as he turned the cell on it started ringing. With raised eyebrows he saw "Blackie" in block letters. Pressing "Ignore", he sat back against the cushions, sighing. It had been a long ride home.

After a few minutes, the phone began ringing again. Growling, he snapped it open and said, "What?"

"Hey. Where have you been?" Foreman asked, voice cutting through the silence in the apartment.

"With your momma," House snarked, swallowing a couple of Vicodin as he spoke. "You know what they say; once you go black, you never go back."

"Whatever. We have a case. Twelve-year-old girl presents with nausea, tenderness in the abdomen, vomiting blood, vivid dreams, dizziness and muscle tremors."

_Ugh, I don't have time for this, _House thought, sighing. "Does she have any preexisting conditions?"

"Yeah. How did you know that?"

"Because you wouldn't have taken this case if it wasn't interesting," House replied, massaging his skull.

"She has OCD." Thirteen's voice rang in as clearly as Foreman's, and House guessed they'd put him on speaker. "We had to bandage her hands because she made them bleed when she wouldn't stop washing them."

"Visually interesting, but still—"

"Taub doesn't think she has OCD."

House blinked a few times, surprised by Thirteen's revelation. "She doesn't show the signs of most children with obsessive compulsive disorder," Taub's voice deadpanned. "Her brain function is normal for a child her age."

"So, she doesn't have a disorder. She must have just thought her hands were really, _really_ dirty, huh?"

Before Taub could retort, Foreman stepped in. "It doesn't matter whether she has OCD or not. We're not here to diagnose that. We're here to figure out why she's vomiting blood."

"Hmm, snippy, aren't we? Someone must not have gotten any last night." After hearing Thirteen and Foreman scoff on the other side, House, smirking, continued. "So, considering she may or may not have OCD, she's probably on an SSRI. Since more than one of our girl's symptoms could also be side effects of that, take her off of it for a few hours."

"Uh, House, you do know that her SSRI is the only thing keeping her from going completely off the rails, right?"

"Sure I do. I also know that unless we distinguish between her side effects and actual symptoms, we aren't going to be able to properly diagnose her. So take her off of it and call me back when you've got something." Without waiting for a reply he snapped the phone shut and tossed it onto the coffee table, relishing in the utter silence his apartment rewarded. His stomach rumbled and he decided he wanted peanut butter. He limped to the kitchen, and while he was getting the bread out his eyes wandered over his home phone. The voicemail light was on, and he leaned over and pressed the button. He began spreading peanut butter on bread while he listened to the mechanical female talk.

"You have one new voice message," She droned. "New Message. 'Hey House,'" she continued, and he raised his eyebrows as Allison's voice came out of the speaker. "'Uh, I just… I don't know what's going on. I-I'm just really confused right now, okay? I'll talk to you later.'"

After the voicemail ended, House glanced down at his peanut butter sandwich, which had just one bite in it. Suddenly disgusted, he dropped the sandwich into the trash bin and put the food up. He limped into the bedroom and downed two more Vicodin before crawling into bed. Her voice rang in his head: _"Don't know… Really confused…" _He knew what those words meant.

She was rethinking her decision to stay with him.

She was thinking about going back to the wombat.

* * *

She hadn't meant for this to happen.

She hadn't meant to sleep with Chase.

Of course, she hadn't meant to sleep with House either, but that at least she enjoyed that. Sleeping with Chase completely stemmed from guilt and pity. She had entered her apartment hoping he wasn't home. To her chagrin, he was there, waiting for her.

"Hey, Allie," he'd said, standing up from his place on the couch to greet her. He kissed her on the lips, and it was so heartbreakingly tender tears welled up in her eyes. He misread her tears and smiled softly, kissing her again. "How was the business trip?"

"Oh, it was fine," she replied softly, wrapping her arms around his middle. He instantly returned the hug, and it felt so wrong. His soft embrace was so unlike the rough, one-armed hugs House would give her, and she felt very out of place with him.

"Well, you must be tired. You want something to eat?" He asked, letting her go and looking down at her.

Allison kept her head down, unable to meet his eyes. "N-No, I had a big lunch. I just… I missed you," she blurted, looking up at him with wide eyes. It wasn't what she had meant to say. She had been trying to find the words to let him go, to explain to him how she felt. What came out instead was another lie.

Her whole life with Chase had been a lie.

"I missed you too," he murmured, leaning in for another kiss. This time she was still with uncertainty, and he felt her hesitance. He leaned back, catching the worried look in her eye. "Allie, what—" The rest of what he was going to say was drowned by her lips crashing against his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, forcing her tongue into his mouth. She wanted him to be rough with her, to kiss her with as much passion as House had. Instead, his mouth was warm and inviting, and she groaned as he allowed her full roam of his mouth. He mistook her frustration for passion and led her to the bedroom, kicking the door closed on their way in.

So, when they had finished, and she was lying in his arms, she felt the full weight of guilt settle onto her shoulders. Not only had she cheated on Chase, her soon-to-be husband. Now she had cheated on House, too. She pulled away from Chase, muttering some lousy excuse about having to go to the bathroom and threw on a bathrobe, knotting it tighter around her middle than necessary. She padded into the kitchen, conscience gnawing at her. She glanced at her cell phone and instantly picked it up. Pressing her speed dial button for House, she was disappointed when her call went straight to voicemail. Stupid man must still be talking to Wilson. She sorted through her numbers and came up with his home phone number, and after it rang four times it went to voicemail, as well. She decided she didn't want to talk to him just yet and decided to leave him a voicemail. She took a deep breath as she waited for the phone to beep.

_Beep._

"Hey House," she said, eyes going wide as she glanced around the kitchen. She was still alone, but she lowered her voice so that only she could hear herself. "Uh, I just…" She paused, feeling stupid. What could she say? That she'd slept with Chase again instead of dumping him like she'd planned? "I don't know what's going on." _Brilliant_. "I-I'm just really confused right now, okay? I'll talk to you later." She pressed the 'End' button on the cell, feeling worse than she had before the call. What was he supposed to get out of a stupid message like that? That she was sorry she'd ever went on that stupid 'business trip' with him, that she was sorry she'd slept with him? She was engaged to Chase, damn it! This wasn't supposed to happen! She hadn't thought about the repercussions when she'd said "I do" in front of a skinny Chinese man, hadn't thought about the consequences when she'd gone to bed with her ex-boss.

She scoffed. Now that she thought about it, why had she even said yes when House had asked her to accompany him on a business trip anyway? He hadn't even given her a good excuse for taking her along, let alone a good reason to go on a business trip. She felt as foolish as she had three years ago when she had been so helplessly in love with him. It was as if she had just been waiting for an excuse to run away with him, and a convenient _business trip _was the perfect solution.

_But_, she thought, _if I would have known he was whisking me off to Vegas to marry me, would I have declined his offer? _It was a question she hadn't considered before, and one that she had no answer to. All she knew now was that she had cheated twice, and that she had no idea which one she wanted to be with anymore.

She put her head in her hands, leaning on the kitchen counter. "What do I do…?"

* * *

So, there it is. Afterglow. Please R&R, even if you hated it. Tell me what I can improve on.

And, btw, in accordance to the disclaimer, I really don't own Hugh. I wish I did, though.


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